Pixel Dance

Most of our days melt away, not really leaving memorable moments, watershed monuments. And then, there are those days that burn like branding irons into our skull. The feelings, the lessons are going to stick. I had the privilege of that experience this last weekend.

I’m currently in the 5th year of a 6-month journey of self-evaluation. I originally began with a sense that I had a few things to clean up in my innards – a little bit of a dirty cup on the inside. Well, be careful what you dig for. The vastness, intensity and array of epiphanies I’ve encountered has blown me away. And even more mind-blowing is my new sense that this long, deep journey is now complete. And in the quintessential “didn’t see that coming” kind of way.

Some of you know I’m a Christian, and I take that pretty seriously. I have a constant conversation going with God most of the time, some of which consists of what pants to wear. But there are those moments when you just know He’s paying attention. And I apparently hit the heavenly radar.

This past spring, one of my dear friend’s daughters died of adrenal cancer. She was 27. One morning just a few days after the funeral my eyes opened with a start as this line went through my head: “Megan’s gone. You’re not.” And so I felt compelled to live a better life, honor Megan by doing what was in my heart. I enrolled in three conferences for the summer. Each topic was one of those things tucked in the back pocket, that I was always going to do later. Learning fiction. Eating disorders. Songwriting. And so I embarked on this journey to explore my talents – to pour myself into being all I could be. Only a strange thing happened on the way to the talent agent – it seemed that instead of embracing, I was giving each thing up. My sense was each time I was supposed to embrace, then surrender. So I did.

Well, Saturday was the end of my conferences, and the last session was about saying yes to your art. They gave away small blank canvasses that would sit in the palm of your hand. And I took mine, happy for the message, feeling pretty fine. That night, we went to church. As we were finishing the last song of the night, preparing to leave, I had this sense that the work I’d been doing is now finished, and that I am now the blank canvas that God has been waiting for. The canvas wasn’t for me – it was me.

I realized that these back-pocket dreams were keeping me from putting my hope in the right place. I was using them to keep from depending on God. And when I gave the last one up, it was like I got a “good job” from the heavens. I can’t explain it – it’s not like it happens all of the time. But I just knew I had done it. And in a pile of tears and nasty Kleenexes, I was gloriously clean. Not perfect, not finished, but ready for the next layer of color, light and texture.

I’m not sure where a blank canvas goes from here. But I can’t wait to see what He does.

By the way, the wonderful conferences I attended were part of the Glen Eyrie conference center. It’s a beautiful 100-year-old castle in Colorado Springs. They have conferences almost every weekend, on a variety of topics. They are open to all, and the list can be perused at www.gleneyrie.com. It is the best kept secret around, and you won’t believe the big horn sheep that roam by, or the red rocks and waterfall canyons that are free for the basking. The prices are also generally fair, and I have found it to be worth every cent, every moment. I hope you’ll find something that suits you. If you have, or if you do, please comment. We’d all love to hear about it.